


Life's A Laugh and Death's the Joke (It's True)

by notsaoirseronan



Series: Peter Maximoff causing chaos in major american cities [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), WandaVision (TV), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, I still dont know anything about witness protection, Pietro Maximoff had ADHD, Pietro Maximoff is a Little Shit, Queer Pietro Maximoff, TFATWS isnt even out yet, at this point i'm just projecting, like hella, none of this makes sense, references to The Addams Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsaoirseronan/pseuds/notsaoirseronan
Summary: Westview didn't work out very well for Peter "Ralph Bohner" Maximoff, so now he's in LA. Good thing nothing bad ever happens there!Oh, wait.Basically, just Peter running into Sam and Bucky all over LA as they chase Zemo and Peter chases jobs.
Series: Peter Maximoff causing chaos in major american cities [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207334
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	Life's A Laugh and Death's the Joke (It's True)

**Author's Note:**

> Based lightly on a comment by Yenisita1296.
> 
> This makes slightly more sense even if I'm slightly more sleep deprived. I know TFATWS doesn't come out for another week, but at this point, I don't really care.
> 
> Enjoy!

LA was… different. Peter wasn’t sure if it was the charming amount of people obsessed with avocados, the number of aspiring actors or the lack of witches he was somehow related to taking an entire town hostage as a coping mechanism. But, in all fairness, therapy was expensive, even more so now that half the world had miraculously returned from the dead. 

Therapists were in high demand. 

Peter appreciated this life. He was a Personal Trainer at a mildly sketchy gym in downtown LA. There wasn’t a lot of trouble, just people high on endorphins taking more than they can handle at the machines resulting in mild to severe injury depending on the hubris. The people injured never sued, though. And whilst Peter was thankful, it had happened enough times to be troubling. 

But, his salary was good so he didn’t really care as long as no one died. Someone had gotten close to suffocating when he dropped a barbell rod on his throat. It had happened so quickly, most people wouldn’t have had time to react, but Peter did, ran over and saved the guy’s life.  The guy had to have some sort of throat surgery to fix his oesophagus, but thanks to Peter, he would live.  That had been a close call. He was terrified for about a month that his boss would call Peter into his office, close the door and gently ask what the fuck was wrong with him.

High school is traumatic for everyone, okay?

But HBZ didn’t care. He hadn’t even acknowledged the situation, just increasing Peter’s wage slightly. HBZ was what his boss wanted to be called, or any of those letters, to be fair. He wasn’t sure why, the guy was just incredibly defensive about his private life. Peter wasn’t even sure if    
A) HBZ even were his initials or just a really cool letter combination,   
B) He’d even met the guy, and   
C) He knew what the dude looked like. He had a different hair colour every week, Peter was starting to be seriously concerned for his mental stability.

Of course, dyeing your hair is fine, but if you use permanent colour weekly and it’s rarely the same shade, you’re either mentally unstable, a spy, or on the run. The last two seemed unlikely, so Peter just assumed the first and once again didn’t care.

But, of course, he was most likely cursed. Two months into an actually decent job without any strange relatives with otherworldly coping mechanisms, and Peter thought he might actually make it somewhat long-term as a PT without clients. It wasn’t his fault his body refused to build visible muscles. He liked running, not lifting weights.

But back to the important bit. Peter came into work as usual at 8, bought a protein bar and checked his empty schedule in case someone had made any last-minute appointments. Wonder why anyone in the right mind would choose Ralph Bohner, a dude who barely looked like he’d been in the sun at all and could pass for 17, over Patrick Vernon, a guy who, whilst not visibly strong, at least looked like he’d stepped foot in a gym at least once in his life. 

Peter liked Patrick, he was an alright dude once you got to know him. Both he and his wife were opposed to traditional socialisation and therefore didn’t participate in any. It had taken Peter five weeks to find out that Patrick had a wife and even then, he wasn’t sure what her name was. It started with either a C or a K, anyway. 

Shit, the story. Peter sat on his ass for half the morning before taking a 5-second marathon around the city purely out of boredom. As he was running, he could hear Agent Woo’s voice in his head,  _ You’re not supposed to draw any kind of attention to yourself! _

Yeah, running at the speed of sound through LA was soon to be the least of his worries. 

As Peter ran through the doors of the gym again, he passed a black SUV with two men in it. They were bickering about something and they looked like they were wearing those weird suits those war criminals have. The ones that look almost ridiculous enough to be in a comic, but also look like they could be walking military propaganda.  They got a lot of customers wanting to be the next superhero, so Peter didn’t think much of it. Not until they got out of the car carrying giant guns.  The two guys hadn’t noticed him rushing past, so Peter was free to hide wherever he wanted and chose to do so in his office. 

Big mistake. The thing about working in a sketchy gym where they have offices is that sometimes, the nameplates get mixed up. Or they just don’t have nameplates. This place had them, but they were basically just plain pieces of brass outside their doors. There was apparently enough distinction in the shitty lettering of Peter’s sign to warrant the two guys knocking down the door.   
“Where’s Zemo?” One of the two said. Holy shit, he had a metal arm. He was also very attractive. Not in like an ‘I wanna kiss him’ way, more of a ‘He could literally be a film star in like the 50s that people still thirst over’ way.   
“Who the fuck is Zemo?” Peter managed, still coping with guns being pointed in his face and also a mild sexuality crisis.    
“Zemo? He’s a dude with like brown hair, he’s german and kinda looks like this guy?” The other one said. Okay, that was kind of unfair. Why were both of them so goddamn attractive? That shouldn’t be statistically possible, having two people on the same team be this attractive, but here they were.

“Dude, I just work here for the paycheck. I’ve barely met my coworkers, I’ve been here two months and I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Peter had managed to regain some calm.

A picture was thrust in his face.    
“Are you telling me he doesn’t look familiar?” Metal Arm said.   
“Yes, I have no clue who you’re talking about. I’ve never seen this guy before,” Peter said. The two men turned to each other and began having their own discussion- was that a jetpack? Awesome.  
“I don’t believe or trust him,”    
“You don’t even believe in or trust me,” Jetpack replied, cocking an eyebrow.    
“That’s because I know you. I also know the world, and someone this calm with a gun in his face can’t be trusted,” Metal Arm argued.   
“You’ve had a gun in your face,”   
“And I can’t always be trusted,” The conversation continued out into the hall and slowly faded.

Peter let out a sigh of relief. He hated any kind of interaction with any kind of law enforcement. No one ever believed him and always gave him a polygraph test. Usually, the question ‘Are you hiding anything from us, material or otherwise’ would pop up, and Peter would panic. 

He was technically wanted in 15 cities spanning three states. 

Peter ran all the way home, taking less than three seconds, but it felt like forever. He was terrified that the two men would track him down despite him having all personal information on all documents the gym had access to.

He stayed in his house for three weeks before he was driven insane. Week one had been fine, he’d mainly looked up fighting techniques in case he needed to fight his way out. Week two had mostly been spent reading. The Professor had recommended a book with a weird title about wallpaper. Week three had been spent half-thinking there was in fact a woman trapped in the wallpaper and he needed to get her out by destroying it. 

Cabin fever works quickly when your brain does too.

Peter found a job as a bartender at a gay club somewhere in Hollywood. Ralph Bohner being bad at geography was a fact stolen from his very own personality. The tips were good and the pay was mediocre, but by his second week at the job, he’d heard just about all of Britney Spears discography.   
So that’s a stereotype that’s somewhat true, even for the lesbians. The two episodes of Glee on her music definitely inspired a new generation of lesbians. 

Peter also learned more about mixology than any person could ever need. He bought a  _ bar _ for himself. A motherfucking bar. How pretentious can one person be? It wasn’t like he was going to bring someone over and impress them with alcoholic versions of Starbucks secret menu orders.

This new identity, Ray Bohner, was a total weirdo. He had a fully stocked bar, an insanely neat apartment (not including the Guest Bedroom of Shame), fucking Dean Martin records, a vintage record player and an insane collection of old TV shows. Had he ever seen The Addams Family? No, but he’d seen one of the movies and he, like most people, wouldn’t object to a threesome with Gomez and Morticia. 

That part was also his own addition, but could you blame him? He’d been questioning his sexuality ever since those two men had entered the wrong office and he’d found some kind of list online called ‘Top 100 Movies That Made Us All Realise We Weren’t Straight’ by some kid named Thomas Shepherd and watched as many of them as possible. He’d found a copy of Addams Family Values at Goodwill and had spent the evening watching it and deciding that both Morticia and Gomez were incredibly hot.

Realising he wasn’t straight had opened up a whole new world for him. Not really, he acted and dressed the same as he did before, but now he didn’t stop himself from mentally remarking on stranger’s looks. He still wasn’t confident enough to actually approach people, but he’d barely spoken to girls before so there wasn’t that big of a difference.

But, much like the gym story, the shit must hit the fan. 

It was a fairly busy night, because who would’ve guessed that LA had a bunch of single gay people bored on a Friday night. The dancefloor was packed with a bunch of sweaty bodies, perfume and glitter. That was something Peter had quickly adjusted to, finding glitter everywhere, even at home. You can’t get rid of glitter. It’s like a disease, once you catch it, you can’t not catch it.   
And with all that sweat comes an intense need for liquid nutrition. They were four bartenders working that night, as the usual two wouldn’t be able to handle everyone.

Taking a break for some fresh air, Peter noticed a fancy car pulling up outside the club. And who would step out of the car if it wasn’t the two guys who had kind of sparked Peter’s sexual awakening? Metal Arm was wearing a casual crewneck shirt, a pearl necklace contrasting the dark fabric. His hair was now short and his eyes were more defined now. Presumably eyeliner.  Jetpack had a James Dean-vibe going on. A crisp white T-Shirt under a leather jacket and some dark wash jeans. Peter’s heart ached for that T-shirt. Not because he wanted to be that close to the guy (though he wouldn’t complain), but because he knew with absolute certainty that that shirt would be ruined the moment he stepped into the club.

Tai came to get him a few seconds later, claiming some super important dude was ordering a bunch of drinks and they needed help carrying all of them. Tai was the first person Peter would consider both a work friend and a casual friend. They were basically the polar opposite of him. Were Peter was loud and annoying, Tai was quiet and people sometimes did a double-take when they realised there was a person standing there.  They’d been the first person Peter came out to, and he was thankful it was them. He hadn’t made a big deal out of it, and neither had they, but he did notice a homemade cupcake with ILY in icing. 

Tai hadn’t been kidding when they said that the super important dude had ordered a lot of drinks. Peter had to take two trays, one in each hand, in order to take as many as possible in as few rounds as possible and even then there had been a need for multiple rounds.

Peter was getting a bit tired of those two showing up wherever he worked. He’d seen the news, he knew that wherever they went there was bound to be a big fight. And Peter liked this job. He liked his coworkers and he liked spending time there. The music could get loud and the flashing lights were annoying until Tai had handed him some silvery blue earplugs with small lightning bolts on them and tinted sunglasses. Now he just looked like a hippie with no dress sense, but he appreciated the gesture and had told them as much. They had smiled and averted their gaze.

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between him and Tai. 

So, those two dudes showing up did mean trouble, but he also couldn’t leave Tai and the others at the bar, so he stayed. Obviously cursing capitalism under his breath, but quietly enough that Big Brother wouldn’t have noticed. 

Peter did his job as well as he could, making drinks and flirting awkwardly with the lonely men. 

Metal Arm came downstairs after about ten minutes, followed soon by his friend. They went straight to the dancefloor, trying to blend in, albeit awkwardly. Jetpack kept trying to help him how to dance somewhat naturally, but it just looked like that scene in Dirty Dancing and Metal Arm soon left towards the bar.

“Hi, what can I get for ya?” Peter asked.   
“Can I please get a G&T, please? And a rum and coke?”   
“Comin’ right up,” Peter said, grabbing all of the necessary ingredients for the drinks.

“You look familiar, have we met?”   
“Yeah, like three months ago, you stormed into my job and asked if I knew some guy names Xanax,” Recognition spread across his face.   
“His name is Zemo, and you left before we had a chance to interview you,”   
“I already have a record, my guy, don’t really need this. Besides, you guys got him, right? I don’t really watch the news. Well, I watch them, I just don’t really pay attention,”   
“You talk a lot,” Metal Arm remarked.   
“Yeah, I think it might be ADHD. That’s what all of my teachers and doctors told me, but I never paid attention long enough to hear what they said next,” He laughed and placed the drinks in front of Metal Arm. The guy fished up the money from his -holy shit those are tight- jeans and placed it on the bar.    
  


“He was cute,” Tai muttered, passing by him to get some bottles.   
“I’m pretty sure he’s a spy or one of those hero guys you see on the news sometimes,” Peter said, helping them get the bottle off the shelf.   
“I didn’t say I wanted to date him or fuck him for that matter, I just noticed he was cute,” Tai said, patting his cheek. 

The place was normal for about five minutes until a guy in a purple suit decided, no, this place shouldn’t exist anymore. Thankfully, he was a dramatic little fucker and was standing at the top of the stairs, giving Peter plenty of time to collect as many people as possible and take them to relative safety, AKA, the other side of the street.

Tai had been the first person he saved. Sure, he may have been biased, but he’d be able to work better if he knew Tai would be safe.

And don’t worry, he got everyone out of the club, even the two super dudes. Not the purple suit guy, though. Or any of his henchmen. But they were standing right next to the explosion, so who gives a crap, anyway.

“We were just-” Asked a few people.   
“How did we get out-,” Asked some others.   
“What happened-” And some others.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You get the idea.

“Someone saved us!” All eyes immediately turned to the two known super dudes in the large group, giving Peter the option to leave once more.

“I’m starting to think you’re intentionally seeking out trouble, Peter,” Agent Woo said. They were back in his office, two weeks after the explosion.   
“Only so we can have these moments together,” Peter flirted awkwardly.    
“We’re trying one more city, and if something happens there, I’ll put you in Utah,” Woo handed him a ticket.

08.15 AM Train to Westchester, New York.   
Name of Purchase Richard L Bohner  
Estimated arrival time at 12.15 PM


End file.
